


Won't Go Home Without You

by Dips_Mananda



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alcohol, Angst, Anxiety, Asshole Ryan, Confrontations, Fake AH Crew, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Protective Geoff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dips_Mananda/pseuds/Dips_Mananda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ah ot6 with micheoff-centric: insecure Michael, something angsty. I took this prompt and ran with it, so this'll be a few parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gettin Into The Nitty Gritty

**Author's Note:**

> This will be in several parts, and since the prompt really didn't give me much to work with, I took it for a wild ride. There will be a happy ending, but not in the first part. (there also might be a bit of nsfw coming)

      Michael was the first one to join the relationship with all of the boys, and now it seemed like he would be the first to leave it completely. He never thought it would turn out this way, but then again, how could it not end up like this? With all of the boys loving on each other and forgetting about little ole Michael. It wasn’t like he was that big of a presence. No, the crew could easily find another bomb expert, one who wasn’t so _needy_ and _violent_. No, he was practically invisible. No one ever looks at him anymore.

 

~~~

     Michael watches Jack and Gavin dance around the kitchen, Gavin laughing and squawking when he trips over his own feet and almost drags Jack down with him. It makes his heart ache with the want to be the one in Jack’s grip, dancing around the kitchen as a pot bubbles softly in the background. But he couldn’t cook worth shit, and Jack never wanted to dance with him. No, it was always Jack and Gavin in the kitchen, and Michael knew he never had a chance with him.

     He turns his gaze back to his game, chewing on his lip as he battles Ray in Pokemon. He was getting his ass kicked, naturally, but at least Ray was hanging with him for once- And he realizes he spoke too soon when Ryan comes out wearing his mask and holding Ray’s fucked up gingerbread man mask.

     “Ray, let’s go out hunting.”

     Ray looks up, grinning when he sees his mask in his grasp.

     “Hell yeah.”

     Michael frowns, stubbornly whining. “But Ray, we’re in the middle of a battle! Plus, Ryan, you’re on a murder break!”

     “My break’s over, need to get my hands bloody again.”

     “Sorry Michael, we can finish it when I get back, yeah?”

     Michael knows that won’t happen, because everytime they go out hunting it ends up with them crashing at Ryan’s place and fucking the rest of the bloodlust away. Of course he won’t argue though.

     “Yeah, whatever. You crazy kids have fun.”

     And if Michael’s tone was a bit bitter, no one noticed. Ray simply shuts his DS off and tosses it to the side, hopping up and taking his mask, tying it to his face and slipping on the extra leather Ryan had for him. He never let him ride with him without one. Michael watches them leave, bitter disappoint a pit in his stomach. It has him swallowing back bile.

      He thinks about trying to join Jack or Gavin, and the thought makes him nauseous. Instead he tosses his DS aside, standing and moving to the door, shucking on his bomber and shoving his feet into worn out sneakers. He didn’t feel like being here when they finally did get back, or when Geoff joined the two in the kitchen and left him on his own. He slips his phone into his pocket, reaching to grab his beanie before realizing it isn’t where it should be. He turns, searching for it and finding it in Geoff’s coat pocket. Right. He’d stolen it after he killed a guy and had to hide himself.

     He pulls it on, smelling whiskey on it and sighing. Geoff walks out, looking at Michael and tilting his head.

     “You gonna be back for dinner babe?”

     “Nah. Got some shit to sort out with the Decavalcante family back in Jersey. S’gonna take most of the night, seeing as I ain’t there.”

     He doesn’t see Geoff’s frown, and definitely doesn’t catch his concerned noise as he ducks out the door, heading down to the garage. Michael had no reason to contact his old mob family, it was just an excuse for going out alone. One that would keep them off his back, since he had left so suddenly. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t forget he was even out anyways. They usually did.

     Michael snorts bitterly as he heads over to his Bifta, slipping in and starting it up. He buckles as he waits for the garage door to open, watching pedestrians walks by outside. Once the door is all the way up he peels out, tires screeching as he narrowly avoids running over a few unlucky pedestrians. Some still get clipped, sending them sprawling to the ground. Michael can't bring himself to care as he speeds off towards Chiliad. On the way he stops at a liquor store and buys the strongest shit he can, which just happens to be a bottle of high grade vodka and a bottle of rum chata as an after thought. The shit tasted like Cinnamon Toast Crunch milk, nothing better to get fucking smashed on.

     He drives the winding road up to Chiliad, passing Ryan and Ray on the way up, blowing past them even as they wave to him, an ax swinging in Ryan’s grip. He fights back the bitter nausea in his stomach at the sight of them, speeding up to the top. God did it hurt, watching the others all pull closer to each other, and farther from him. He stops at the very tippy toppers of Chiliad, pulling the Bifta over to the edge that overlooks the sea.

     He climbs out, moving to sit on the largest, tallest ledge he can, feet swinging into thin air as he settles down with the bottles of alcohol. He watches the sea as he slowly takes swigs of the vodka, washing each gulp down with a chase of rum. Tasted like shit mixed together, but he wasn’t going for taste. He was going for what would get him smashed the fastest. He ducks his head down as the wind pulls at his clothes, as he fights to keep the tears out of his eyes. It wasn’t fair, God it wasn’t fair. He was the first to join, it had been him, Geoff and Jack until they pulled the others in as well. He was the first, but now he felt like he was always going to be the first. First to join, first to be forgotten, and first to leave. It sucked.

     It takes Michael a while and both bottles of alcohol, but eventually he gets so smashed that sitting at the edge of Chiliad like he is is as dangerous as a gun. It wasn’t before, no before he was sober enough to avoid falling, but now? Now, he was lucky if he didn’t fall. He hears footsteps crunch on the dirt and blearily looks around, watching as Ryan and Ray walk onto the observation deck. He watches as Ryan presses Ray to the rail, watches as Ryan’s hand wanders under Ray’s shirt, and suddenly the booze isn’t working so well. His mouth is dry and he feels like he’s going to be sick. Why didn’t Ryan touch him like that anymore? Did he hate him, had he done something wrong?

     Yes, he decides, he had to have done something, or maybe they were just sick of him, of his stupid annoying rage, his stupid neediness and his shitty handling of explosives, of the way he never controlled himself, of how much of shitty person he was. He gets up, tossing the bottles into the passenger seat of his car and peeling out, screeching his way back down the mountain. He doesn’t even notice Ryan startle and pull away from Ray, doesn’t hear him shout after him.

     He decides in an instant that there was no way he was going back to their shared apartment. He couldn’t to watch the three that would be there love on each other as he sat aside, discarded. He couldn’t bear it, not in his half drunken state. He instead heads to his shitty house on the outskirts of town that isn't really that shitty. When he gets there he immediately heads to the bathroom, puking up all of the booze he’d drank that night. After that, he showers and collapses into the bed a sobbing mess. He falls asleep like that, sobbing into the pillow.

~~~

     When Michael walks in the next morning, eyes bloodshot and a hangover looming like a heavy fog in his brain, it’s to the opposite of his surprise that Ryan and Ray aren’t there, and that nobody else asks about why he was gone all night. It’s not like he expected them to. He moves to plop down on the couch, lazily watching as Gavin fucks up whatever he was making with Geoff in Minecraft. He isn’t even noticed when he sits down, Gavin just adjusts to sit more in Geoff’s lap. That pulls at something in his gut, makes his face twist.

     As he’s about to get up, the front door swings open, Ray and Ryan swaying inside and God he can see the funny way Ray walks, watches the way Ryan smirks smugly as he watches him walk over. Michael looks up at Ray, nervousness curling in his gut and he thinks maybe Ray will pay attention to me now. The nervousness turns to disappointment that makes his mouth taste like ash when he instead chooses to pile onto the chaise lounge with Ryan and Jack, leaving him alone on the far end of the couch. He swallows hard, getting up before tears can scald his cheeks where they all can see them and escaping to the roof.

~~~

     When Geoff looks over to where Michael had been sitting, he frowns. Where had the oldest lad gone? He’d gotten back from being gone all night and what, left again? He had been acting weird since everyone had joined and things had calmed down. He seemed to be pulling away more and more, he would hardly look at them anymore. Everytime he would go to ask him to hangout or to spend the night with him, it’d be something about business calling him away.

      Geoff was starting to worry about him. Were they disappointing him? Did he want out of the relationship? He was about to push Gavin off of him when Gavin squirmed, squawking at Geoff for his distraction.

     “Oi, Geoff! You’re supposed to be helping me you smeg pot!”

     “Yeah, sorry Gavvers. What was I doing?”

     And so easily his attention was pulled from Michael.

~~~

     Ray had seen Michael going up to the top of Chiliad, had seen the look on his face when he had blown past them without stopping to even say hello like he would have months before. It was haunted, pained, like he was running from something impossible to run from. He had tried to ask Ryan about it when they were killing, the thrill of bloodlust thick and intoxicating in his blood. Ryan had just growled at him, Ryan’s way of saying “save it till later. Now, just enjoy the kill.”

     So he had. And God had he loved losing himself to the thrill of the kill. Michael faded to the back of his mind, and despite how horrible it sounded, so did everyone else. When they were on the hunt, it was his time to let go, to be animalistic.

     But when they had disposed of the bodies and clambered to the observation deck, hands groping and roaming with the heat of their excited blood, he hadn't expected what would happen. He hadn’t expected to watch Michael’s Bifta peel out from one of the ledges, Michael looking sick in the seat as his knuckles went bone white on the steering wheel. He had thought they’d go after him, but Ryan hadn’t let him. Had said Geoff texted him, told him about the business with the Decavalcante family, and that Michael was probably just heading out to set up a weapon run.

     That had pushed the matter to the back of his mind, and pulled the matter of their still wandering hands back to the forefront. It was easy to forget how Ryan had shouted after Michael, or the concern he felt when Ryan had his hands on him like that. Ray never was that good at multitasking.

     And when they woke up the next afternoon after fucking late into the morning, he couldn’t find it within himself to even attempt to worry again. Hunts always did that to him, made him lethargic and apathetic to worries.

     So of course he didn’t remember Michael.

~~~

     Michael sits on the roof, sobbing out his pain. Why won’t they look at him anymore? What was he doing wrong? They were sick of him, they had to be. He knows Ryan saw him, and Geoff knew he was going to be gone, so why haven't they at least talked to him? He clenches his fists, slamming them against the railing he was sitting on.

     “Dammit dammit DAMMIT! Why won’t they look at me! What am I doing wrong?!”

     His voice breaks as he leans heavily over the edge, sobbing.

     “Why am I not enough?”

     He hears the door behind him open and he has enough time to hear someone make a noise of surprise before he flings himself off the building, yanking the cord for his parachute when he’s a safe distance away. He floats down until he hits the ground, shucking the parachute off and heading to his Bifta. He gets in, speeding off, tears drying on his cheeks. He finds himself laughing as he thinks about what a badass exit that was for something so simple.

~~~

     When Michael gets back later, it’s to the sound of planning and glasses clinking. He sighs and walks to the planning room, watching Geoff sling an arm around Jack and try to pull him in, watching Jack struggle half heartedly with a soft smile on his face. He watches Ray look around, eyes sleepy looking with how relaxed he is. That doesn’t mean he isn’t aware though. He’s the first to notice Michael returning, even through Gavin tackling Ryan and making a huge fucking commotion. Michael catches his gaze, sees a burning question in his eyes and shakes his head. Not now. Preferably not ever.

     Michael steps in and flops down into the armchair, his curls bouncing as he jerks his head to Geoff.

     “So Daddio, what’s the plan?”

    “Bank heist this time. We’ve been stocking up on supplies.”

     “Sweet, who planned this one?”

     “Gavin.”

     There’s a moment of silence between Michael groaning and Gavin crowing out with pride.

     “Oh god, we’re all fucking dead.”

     “Micoo boi don’t you trust me?”

     “Sure I do, when you aren’t the one about to make us rob a bank!”

     Gavin pouts at him, and Michael rolls his eyes.

     “You know I’ll do anything you ask boi.”  
  
     His eyes light up, and Michael lets himself think for just a moment that maybe everything was okay, that they weren’t totally forgetting him. Gavin grins at him, and they all launch back into talk about the upcoming heist and how it was going to go. Ryan insists on masks again, of course, and Gavin talks about all the explosives he got for his little Micoo. It has him feeling warm for the first time in days, has a little kernel of warmth burrowing deeper in his chest.

~~~

     Of course the heist goes to shit. Gavin’s plan hinged on chaos and confusion, and boy did he get it. First the plane broke down as they were taking off, forcing them to make an emergency landing. Then Gavin lost the arms ordinance, so they were down the weapons and ammo they needed, and Ammunation was shit.

     And Ryan wouldn’t fucking stop killing random pedestrians.   
  


     It’s after what has to be around the fifteenth pedestrian when Michael snaps in anger, frustration, and bitterness. This heist was going all wrong, the cops were quickly approaching, and Gavin was flying the damn Cargobob. Michael snarls as Ryan shoots down another fucking pedestrian instead of the God damn cops following them. It startles everyone when he snarls, because while yes he growls and snarls at them when he’s pissed, it’s never happened during a heist.

     “RY-YAN FUCKING QUIT SHOOTING THE GOD DAMN PEDESTRIANS AND DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!”

     Michael watches the mask swivel towards him, watches icy eyes widen in surprise before crinkling in confusion.

     “What the hell is your problem Michael jeez?”  
  
   

      “My problem is that's 16 random fucking pedestrians they can get the bullets from!”

     “So what? It comes up as any other gun.”

     “THAT’S NOT THE FUCKING POINT YOU FUCKING PRICK!”

     Now the eyes turn icy, turn heated and angry.

    “What the fuck is wrong with you? We’re in the middle of a heist.”

     Michael seethes even as Geoff’s voice breaks over the coms, cutting off his words.

     “What’s going on you three?”

     Michael hears Gavin start squawking as he stares at Ryan, face pinched with anger, tears stinging at his eyes.

     “Micoo’s being a jebby little jeb piece to Ryan!”

     “Ryan isn’t doing his fucking job.”

     Michael regrets the words the instant they leave his lips when Ryan shoots him the coldest gaze he’d ever seen. Even before, when they’d first been getting to know each other, Ryan had been friendly, a charming Southern gentleman. Now, there was nothing in his eyes that even spoke remotely of before they’d been together, and definitely nothing that showed that he still held Michael in the same regards as before. It makes Michael want to throw up.

     “Fuck Rye I didn’t-”

     “We’re landing, hold on!”

     Gavin interrupts him and he has to clutch the door frame to keep from tumbling out, hands shaking hard and tears forming in his eyes. His face is flushed with the remnants of the rage that now turns to shame, and he forces himself not to look at Ryan. When they land Ryan is out of the chopper immediately, pace measured and professional as he heads into the safe house. Michael hops out the other side, ripping the com out of his ear and tossing it down, grinding it into the dirt with his foot before stalking off.

     He bumps into Geoff on the way to his Roosevelt, blinking tears away as he looks up. Geoff’s hands settle on his shoulder, and he meets a concerned gaze.

     “Michael, babe, what happened? You’ve never snapped like that.”

     “Fuck off Geoff.” It’s a knee jerk response, and it has him holding back a whimper as he runs hands through his curls, messing them up.

     “Fuck, Geoff, I’m sorry- I just need to go, alright? I’ll be back later.”

     “Michael talk to me, what’s going on?”

     “Just- I’ll be home later tonight.”

     Michael pushes past him, hurrying to the Roosevelt and peeling out of the sandlot, heading south to the house that held him when he was smashed off his ass.

~~~

     When Michael returns to the shared penthouse later, it’s to the sight of only Ryan up. Guilt twists in his gut again and he hurries over to him, blocking off his escape as he catches sight of Michael and gets up to leave.

     “Rye, God Rye I’m so sorry. You’ve never not done your job, I was being an asshole.”

     Ryan simply stares at him as if to say “you’re damn right I haven’t.” But otherwise doesn’t say a word to him. Michael makes a frustrated noise, reaching to grip his arm. Before he can even get near him though Ryan moves back, obviously avoiding his touch and shutting him out. Michael goes slack jawed, staring at Ryan.

     “Rye, Rye please talk to me. I’m so God damn sorry, please don’t shut me out.”

     He gets more desperate the more it comes clear Ryan has no intentions of speaking to him.

     “Ryan please, please don’t do this to me. I’m begging you, don’t do this, don’t hate me please, please don’t be mad at me.”

     He reaches for him again, face falling as he steps back. His voice is rising, getting louder, cracking with every word as he pleads for what seems like the balance they once had.

     “Ryan don’t leave me! Ryan I’m sorry okay? What I said was wrong, it was fucked up and I had no right I know that! Please don’t be mad!”

     But those eyes still burn with anger, still hold no remorse for his pleas, and he finds himself being shoved out of the way by a stone cold Ryan. He trembles, looking down at his hands. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck he just ruined everything, he always Goddamn ruins it. He watches Geoff come in, knows he heard everything and it makes his gut twist. He hated him too, didn’t he? They all had to.

     “You fucked up bad buddy. Give him some time to cool down.”

     “Yeah.”

     He hates how his voice cracks, and wills himself to stop. He glances at Geoff, tears stinging his eyes as he leaves the room. What could he even do anymore? Ryan hated him, and he had good reason to. He was an angry piece of shit, how he stood him at all before was a mystery. For all they joked about Gavin being a piece of shit, it was really him who was one.

~~~

     It didn’t take long for Michael to make his decision. It didn’t take long for Michael to pack his things either. This was how it all ended then, with him leaving, with Ryan hating his guts, with everyone else on his side. It makes sense. Who would stick with him? No one. No, he’d never been good enough for them, and they were finally starting to realize and act on that fact.

     Michael packed all he needed; of course, there wasn’t much he would take. Clothes, guns, laptop that he had bought days after the Ryan incident. All of the electronics Geoff had gotten him were left behind. They were all traceable, so he bought himself things that weren’t traceable. New laptop, new phone, new ID and license. New name.

    He leaves at three in the morning, when everyone is asleep in the bedroom they share, when Michael is awake in the guest room. He’d been sleeping in there for the past week. Long enough to get together everything he would need to leave. He leaves with the bag on his back, heart in his throat and tears in his eyes. He’d been looking over all the pictures they had taken over the years, before he started packing. The one after the gold heist, when Geoff had dipped him low and kissed him like it was some old movie. He remembers how breathless they were after that, how excited.

     He remembers how after the Blood Battle, the one between them and the Creepers, how Geoff had swept him up in a frenzied kiss that had bruised his lips for days after, that left blood smeared into his hair from grasping fingers. He remembers how close they were that night, remembers how they used to love him. Used to.

      He leaves in the Bifta, bag in the seat beside him, heart left on the bed with the scattered pictures. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

~~~

     When Geoff goes into the guest room late the next day, wanting to talk to Michael, his heart drops to his toes. He stares at the wreckage in the room, the pictures strewn across the bed, the clothes barely left hanging on the hangers in the closet. He moves into the room, voice cracking when he speaks.

     “Michael?”

     He moves to the bed looking over all of the pictures sprawled over the surface. After heist photos, before heist photos, vacation photos. Some are crumpled, like they’d been clenched in shaking hands. The images are smeared by hasty thumbs and marred by tears, ink smudged across the paper. Geoff looks around, stricken by the thought that slowly becomes a reality. He spots a piece of paper, folded and balanced precariously upon a pile of electronics. He snatches it up, unfolding it, hands trembling. The words on it has him dropping it and sprinting out of the room, voice bouncing off the walls as he hurries into the living room.

     “Guys, he’s gone!”

     There had only been a few words on the paper, and Geoff would remember them for years.

_**“Thanks for the memories. Don’t look for me.”** _

 


	2. The Return of Mogar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes him a few weeks, but slowly he forgets about his life in Los Santos.

Michael’s plane touches down back in New Jersey at 2 in the afternoon that next day. His feet hit the ground of the Decavalcante Estate at 2:45 that same day. His bag is tossed onto his new bed back in his old room. The family welcomes him back with open arms, and it feels nice to be wanted somewhere. It doesn’t feel like home without the guys, but he’d have to get used to it. They didn’t want him anymore.

He settles in quickly, getting used to the empty feeling of being away from them. He has to remind himself they don’t want him, or he’ll be on the next plane back. He sighs and scrolls through his new phone; he had kept their numbers, had transferred all of the pictures over, but he couldn’t stomach looking at them right now. No, now he had work to do.

~~~

It takes him a few weeks, but slowly he forgets about his life in Los Santos. Forgets ever loving them, forgets how they ever made him feel. He still feels empty, but he’s stopped noticing it. Life for him is work now, work and business as usual. The family never goes soft on him, and he finds himself grateful that they aren’t going soft. He didn’t need it.

He turns over in bed that night, eyes closed and flickering behind his lids as he dreams. He hears a voice that cracks like they’re hitting puberty, sees a mustache like a typical Hollywood villain. He sees a mask, a skull painted in black. He sees a hawaiian shirt, a round belly and a ginger beard. He hears squawking and sees flailing, hears deadpan humor, sees a flash of purple.

It has him shifting in bed, has tears coming to his eyes for some reason. He sees tattooed fingers outstretched towards him, sees a phantom smile and as he’s about to speak, he wakes up. He sits up in bed, eyes opening slowly as he hears commotion outside, hears Ms. Decavalcante screaming for guards. He leaps out of bed, grabbing his semi automatic from beside the door and bursting out, chest bare. He didn’t have time to dress, they were being invaded.

“Look lady, we’re just here for Michael! Calm your fucking dick!”

“We’re just here for my boi!”

“Ma’am please, we don’t mean any harm.”

“Guards are comin’. Their signal is blocking my Pokemon game.”

“Ray, not the time.”

 

Michael frowns as he comes around the corner, moving down the stairs with military tread, stepping into the room and barking out a loud command.

“Back away from the woman, and maybe you all live.”

To his shock, the men from his dream all whirl around, the mustached one shouting in surprise.

“Michael! Jesus dicks, put that thing down!”

He adjusts it, frowning as he looks at the man. He clicks off the safety, looking to Ms. Decavalcante for orders. She shakes her head, frowning.

“Keep it up. These men are to be shown out. Get the Fake AH Crew out of my house.”

Michael freezes up at the name, memories flooding his mind as he remembers. Remembers what he had been running from. He looks to the mustached man- Geoff- and swallows hard, tears in his eyes.

“I told you not to look for me.”

Geoff frowns, eyebrows pulling together. “Michael, babe, why would we ever not look?”

Tears gather in his eyes and he shifts the gun, voice quivering.

“I was happy here, why did you come back? How did you find me?”

Geoff looks to Gavin, and he switches the gun to point at Gavin when he moves forward. He has his hands up, looking uncharacteristically sad and worried.

“Michael, boi, I tracked your name. You- you never stopped going by Mogar. I traced the news for weeks.”

Michael shakes hard, face flushing. Not with rage, but shame. Shame that he had been so stupid, that now he was disappointing everyone.

“I told you not to! Why? Why did you find me?!”

His hands tremble on the gun and he can see Ms. Decavalcante making a worried face. He tries to keep it up, but drops the gun, sobbing when Geoff rushes forward, gathering him up in a tight hug. He clutches at his suit jacket, sobbing as hands pet through his curls.  He hears the rest of the boys apologizing for the intrusion, and asking where his things were. Geoff hushes him, and he feels his waxed mustache press against his forehead as he kisses it. He pushes away from him, rubbing his eyes.

“Why did you come for me?”

“We all need to talk.”

The others come back down with his bag carefully packed and slung over Jack’s shoulder. Michael looks at him as he holds out an old faded tee, one of Geoff’s that he’d stolen when he left. He takes it, looking it over before pulling it on, a beanie being carefully pushed onto his curls by a warm hand, and he looks to see Geoff smiling at him. He turns to Ms. Decavalcante and watches as she sighs.

“Go, Michael. Just remember, you have a home here if you ever need it again.”

He nods, turning to look at them as they head out the door. He’s left standing, and his heart jumps with the idea that they’re leaving him again. That thought is chased away when Geoff turns back, holding out a hand.

“Come on.”

He makes a noise that he will always deny he ever made, moving to take his hand, letting him take him home.

~~~

It takes them a while, but they eventually get home to Los Santos. Michael sits in a seat in the jet, feet still bare and hands clutching his bag. He can feel Geoff watching him, knows the giant talk they’re going to have when they land. So it’s with fear shaking his feet that he runs the minute they get to Los Santos. He doesn’t get very far, Geoff grasping his wrist, breathing heavy as he stops him.

“No, no more running from us Michael. We have to talk.”

He stares back at him, dreading it, dreading them making the break up official. He can only nod though, and go with him as he’s piled into his Roosevelt. He sits in the back seat, smushed between Geoff and Ray. He can see Ryan holding on outside, face hidden under the mask. He looks at Jack and Gavin in the front seats, and his heart aches at the new strangeness of it. No one but him ever drove the Roosevelt, and now they use it as if it wasn’t the car he loved.

He shifts in his seat, Geoff putting a hand on his leg. He looks over as they pull into the sleek garage, and he itches to get out. When the car stops he’s clambering over Geoff, pushing the door open and rolling out, standing smoothly. He notes in his head that he finally managed that, and to try it again later. He doesn’t have time to continue the thought though as he’s led to the elevator, and he grumbles half heartedly that “he can lead his own damn self, he knows where to go fuck off.”

The hand stays on his arm all the way up to the penthouse, and if it had been anyone other than Geoff, he might’ve slugged them for it. He didn’t need to be lead, didn’t need to babied. He was a goddamn grown adult for god's sake. Sure, he fucking ran from them instead of confronting them, but he could make his own decision, no matter if they hurt him to his core. He waits in the elevator, sandwiched between Geoff and Ryan, bare feet cold on the tile bottom.

When the door opens a hand grips his arm tightly, practically dragging him in. He snarls and rips his arm from the grasp, staring at Ryan in defiance and anger.

“I don’t need to be fucking dragged like a reluctant fucking toddler Ry-yan! Fuck off with your bullshit.”

Ryan stares at him, reaching out with deliberate slowness to snag his arm, holding tightly. Michael growls and rips away again, red lines raising on his arm where Ryan’s nails had accidently bit in.

“Michael, quit being a baby.”

“Fuck you Ryan.”

Geoff scoffs loudly and pushes Ryan ahead of them, coming up to Michael’s side.

“Alright Ryan, enough with your bottle full of vinegar act. Go to the meeting room, all of you. We’ll be in in a minute.”

Ryan grumbles, yanking his mask back down where it had been pushed up for the elevator ride. Gavin moves around them, giving Michael a sheepish look, as if to say sorry for not helping. Jack pats his back gently as he brushes past him, and Ray grumbles something about ‘salt and vinegar chips” and being “so fucking hungry someone please feed me”. Michael watches them go, heart in his throat, anger in his cheeks. He turns back to Geoff, huffing out a harsh breath.

“So, what the fuck is this? Gotta get your two cents in before the rest of them toss me the fuck out?”

“We missed you.”

Those words have Michael stopping, his mouth gaping open. They _missed him_? Like they hadn’t ignored him for months on end until he left? Like Ryan hadn't punished him for something he so profusely apologized for that he didn’t sleep for _weeks_? That phrase has Michael snarling, face twisting into a scowl as fierce as a pissed off yellow jacket, has Geoff blinking wide in surprise.

“FUCK YOU GEOFF! FUCK YOU! YOU DON’T GET TO SAY YOU MISSED ME!”

Michael’s voice trembles with rage, his face flushes red as he screams at him.

“YOU ALL IGNORED ME FOR MONTHS! YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO FUCKING MISS ME!”

“Michael...”

His voice is broken and hurt, and Michael snarls again even as tears scald his hot cheeks. His voice cracks and breaks when he speaks, and he tries to hold onto his composure.

“You all abandoned me and I didn’t know what to do. Why? What did I do wrong? Why are you all abandoning me?” Michael rubs hard at his eyes in anger, hating the tears stinging his vision. He watches Geoff reach out to him and jerks back. He voice breaks when he creaks his words out.

"No. You don't get to fucking touch me like I'm still yours."

He laughs bitterly at the surprised look on Geoff's face. Why was he surprised?

"I told you not to fucking look for me, you cocksucker. I was happy, I wasn't being fucking ignored by the people who claim to love me."

"We do love you!"

"BULLSHIT! THAT'S BULLSHIT GEOFF! NONE OF YOU EVER-"

He cuts off when Jack's gentle voice breaks into his shouting.

"Michael, let's all discuss this, okay? Head to the meeting room."

His shoulders slump and he sighs, avoiding Geoff's eyes as he turns and heads down to the meeting room. It's deathly silent when he steps in, and he knows they all heard. Ryan is stoney faced, Gavin has a beer clutched in his hand, and Ray has his hood up and is clicking away on his 3DS. He doesn't bother speaking, just throws himself into a chair and yanks off Geoff's t-shirt, tossing it down. It's cold in the meeting room, always is, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want anything of Geoff's touching him. He loved him first, he was supposed to stand by him through everything, but he hadn't, he had abandoned him.

When the door opens again, Geoff stalks in, looking rubbed raw, hair messed and eyes bloodshot. He feels Jack’s warm hand near his arm and glances at it, seeing one of Jack’s hoodies being held out to him. He almost snarls at him, but when he glances up at Jack, he can’t do it. The man already looks like he’s struggling to keep it together, even if he was the most rational one of the group. He takes it with a word, pulling on the over large sweater and tugging it down until it stretches over his knees and bare toes. He mumbles a quiet thanks to Jack, and watches him smile.

Meanwhile Geoff paces, stopping once he has the hoodie on to lean his hands on the table. Gavin moves over, rubbing a hand over his back soothingly.   
  
“Go on then Geoff.”

He watches how heavily he sighs and squirms in his seat, uncomfortable now. They couldn’t have missed him, right? They had been ignoring him, they hadn’t loved him...right? He jumps a little when Geoff looks at him firmly, sighing out a harsh breath.

“We have an issue boys. We’ve been bad boyfriends, and we’re seeing the fallout of this. Michael, you think we abandoned you.”

Everyone erupts into loud shouting, refusals of that accusation, rebuttals with weak responses. It makes Michael’s head spin with the fact that they have the gall to refuse the truth. He hears every word clearly, from everyone.

“Wot! Boi, is that true? You think we were ignoring you? That's downright bloody absurd!"

“Really? Bullshit.”

“Was this cause of my murder break break?”

“Michael you know that’s not true, that’s ridiculous.”

Geoff’s voice is surprisingly strong when he interrupts, seeing how overwhelmed Michael is getting. It has Michael looking up in shock.

“Everyone shut your mouths. It isn’t up to the rest of you to decide if you were or weren’t. It’s up to Michael.”

Michael blanches, blood draining from his face. He has two choices, acknowledge the fact to their faces that he believes they abandoned him, or reassure them that they weren’t and get ignored more. He chooses the first, looking down and swallowing through the lump in his throat.

“You’ve all been abandoning me. I had no choice but to leave, I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay and not- and not- I couldn’t watch you love each other and not...love me too.”

His voice breaks several times through, throat closing up and tears coming to his eyes. Saying it now, it makes him realise how much he was hurting over it. His breath comes shorter as he watches them all reel back like they’d been struck. He babbles to hurry and fill the silence, needing to speak before they leave him forever.

“You all love each other so much and I- I love you all so much and you all just- YOU ALL JUST LEFT ME ALONE GOD DAMMIT! I NEEDED YOU GUYS AND YOU ALL IGNORED ME!”

He doesn’t mean to shout, doesn’t really register that in his growing panic his voice had gotten louder, all he knows is how bad his chest hurts and how he can hardly seem to get a breath. He gasps hard, windpipe closing hard around the lump of tears in his throat. He scrunches his eyes closed, shaking fingers coming up to grip auburn curls. His arms are so heavy, he can hardly keep the grip on his hair, wanting to just curl up under the table and stay there. Michael tries to reign it all in, to cut off the pathetic flow of tears and face their rejection like a man.

He hears Geoff begin to speak, but doesn’t take in the words, can’t process them with the lump in his throat, the vice squeezing his heart so hard he feels like he’s being crushed. He registers the feeling of a warm, heavy hand carding through his curls, gently pulling Michael’s fingers out of his curls. Those gentle fingers replace his beanie on his head where his clutching fingers knocked it off. Hands curve down the angle of his jaw, cupping and gently leading his head up. Geoff’s face swims into view, sleepy eyes sad and brimming with tears. His voice breaks more times than he can count when he speaks, and he feels the vice around his heart cracking.

“Oh baby boy, we’ve been such bad boyfriends. Can you copy my breathing, just for a little?”

Michael manages a broken nod, watching Geoff as he inhales deeply, holding it for two then breathing out for four. He tries to mimic his breathing, chest hurting as he sucks in as deep a breath as he can. Slowly, the vice around his heart starts to crack more and more, pieces falling away until his head stops swimming and his heart hurts far less. His limbs still feel like lead, but he decides that’s okay, now that his chest doesn’t hurt so much. He looks at Geoff,, something broken in his eyes. Geoff simply smiles at him gently, pulling Michael in. He struggles against it, not wanting the kiss he thinks is coming. Not now, not again. Not when they would just be leaving him later.

To his shock however, he’s pulled into a warm, firm chest, soft threadbare cotton resting against his cheek. He’s hushed and it loosens some of the hurt in his heart. He listens to Geoff speak, fingers curling absently in the fabric of his shirt.

“It must have hurt a lot to think we didn’t love you. I’m so sorry we- I- ever made you feel that way. I should have never gotten so distracted that I didn’t take care of you.”

He manages a broken whimper in response, turning his head and pressing his face into Geoff’s shirt, the material soaking them up as they slide down his cheeks. He feels a gentle kiss get pressed to his beanie covered hair, hears the soft plopping of tears as they hit his beanie.

“When I saw your room that morning, when I saw all of the pictures, God did my heart break. It was you and me babe, all the way from the beginning, and I just abandoned you. It’s hard, balancing five men, but I never should’ve let it push you away.”

He clutches harder into his shirt, breath hitching with sobs as he starts to cry in earnest, following Geoff as he breaks down into sobs.

“I am so sorry Michael, so so sorry. A thousand words can’t tell you how much. All I can tell you is that it will never, EVER, happen again, not on my watch. At least, it won’t if you stay.”

Geoff’s voice breaks as he sobs in earnest, squeezing him just that little bit tighter that makes Michael damn near go limp in his arms.

“Oh Michael, please don’t make me say goodbye to you a second time. Please don’t leave baby boy.”

Michael can only cry into his shirt and hug him fiercely. It had been them, Team Much Respect, from the start. Always them. He's anchored by Geoff's strong arms, sobbing into his chest as Geoff cries against his beanie.

He has no clue how long they sit there, Michael wrapped in Geoff's strong embrace, tears soaking their cheeks. All he knows are the words, the soft promises Geoff makes to never, ever treat him like that again, to always be there for him like he should. It has Michael nodding, because he wants it, he just wants someone to love him again. His voice breaks when he speaks, looking up at Geoff as the last dregs of the vice around his heart fall away.

“I’ll stay with you Geoff.”

The look of pure relief on Geoff’s face has him giving a weak smile, making a noise of shock when he swept up into a hard, squeezing hug. He huffs out a noise, hugging Geoff back with the same intensity. He only allows himself a few moments to enjoy it however before he’s pushing away and wiping his eyes.

“Got me blubbering like a God damn baby. Fuck you jerk off.”

His words hold no malice, and he knows Geoff knows, can tell by the gentle smile on his face. He straightens his beanie, sitting straighter.

“I do need something from you though Geoff. Before I can really...settle in, again.”

“What’s that baby boy? Anything you need, you have it.”

“I need a few days to myself.” He rushes to keep speaking when Geoff’s face goes slack with shock. He raises his hands, voice a bit desperate.

“Just to sort out my head. I want to stay, I do Geoff, I do, but...I can’t do that until I have my head straight. I don’t think I can stay here tonight and succeed.”

He watches Geoff slowly think it over, nodding after a while, a look of determination on his face.

“Take as long as you need. I’ll be here whenever you need me, I’m just a call away. I won’t let the boys see you, if you don’t want.”

“I think...I think that’d be best. Just a few days Geoff, I promise.”

**  
** “I’ll hold you to that promise baby boy. One way or another, I won’t go home without you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW OH GOSH LOOK AT THIS 
> 
> Comments are love, comments are life.


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